This story was originally published on Aug. 14, 2019 in NYT Parenting.
You’ve had a baby! Congratulations, you look fantastic! Well, isn’t this an exciting time? No, you’re absolutely right, it’s terrifying. The sheer number of decisions you have to make that clearly will have lifelong and irreversible consequences shouldn’t be taken lightly. And it seems like maybe you’ll never take anything lightly again? Or maybe you could be like Simba in the “Lion King” and laugh in the face of danger?
No, that was not a sponsored comment. Are you serious? Of course you’re serious. No, I am not here representing a brand. No, I didn’t bring any plastic with me, unless you count my shoes and soul. What’s that? No, I am definitely not giving the baby a cartoon character onesie or dirty looks or anything with added sugar. For God’s sake, no, I am not an influencer! You’ve known me since freshman year of college! Have you ever known me to influence anything besides a midnight pizza?
But back to the baby, such wonderful news! Just look at her! I need to kiss her sweet face and hold her in my arms and — no, of course. How dare I suggest kissing when you don’t know where my mouth has been? Holding the baby: also out of the question. Absurd that I even brought it up. Yes, you’re absolutely right, if I hold her I could potentially transfer my microbiome (???), which I can tell you’ve been reading a lot about! Although based on my exactly 30 seconds’ worth of learning on this subject, that seems unlikely since she didn’t come out of my vagina and, also, I don’t eat poop capsules.
So, fine, let’s table the holding of the baby. Speaking of tables, what changing table did you end up getting? Yes, of course, a changing table was definitely worth months of research. People change babies on the airport floor and the tailgate of their car, but sure, spending $1,300 on a “new take” on a midcentury modern piece of furniture that you will want to set on fire in a few years makes perfect sense, and I am not mocking you nor your seriousness regarding this matter. Anyway, congratulations on purchasing the bridesmaid’s dress of furniture.
Hey, knock knock! Remember you say, “Who’s there?” Should I just do the whole thing myself? Would that help you out?
O.K., knock knock!
Who’s there?
Data
Data who?
I wonder if she’ll say data or mama first?
Why are you glaring at me like that? No, I don’t have any of her data! I haven’t taken a single photo since I’ve been here. Does she even have a social security number yet? No, of course I don’t want to know what it is!
Let’s get back to admiring that gorgeous baby, what a love. How long was she when she was born? How much did she weigh? I want to kiss her bubblegum toes! Right, absolutely, length is a precursor to height and along with weight and gender they are all social constructs, even though some of those are actual numbers and will definitely be tracked by your pediatrician’s office. And, wow, what’s with me and kissing? Should I be seeing someone about this? All this … natural human affection … feels completely out of control. Thank you for pointing this out to me.
And you are correct, I should not at all be focusing on how beautiful she is. I should instead be admiring her intelligence, even though her presence to date is highly consistent with that of a banana slug. Also, of course, I’m sorry — how dare I bring bubblegum into this when it’s basically cancer dipped in fun carnival colors? I forgot there’s no place for lighthearted metaphor in your life right now. I hang my head in shame. And also to laugh a little into my chest since I’m apparently the only one who remembers how.
Did you just get mad at me for folding a paper bag? Oh! It woke the baby! Apologies 1,000 times over. I don’t know what I was thinking bringing you a six-pack of your favorite beer and some nonorganic strawberries and attempting to put the bag neatly into your recycling. I might as well have brought you a six-pack of arsenic and some nonorganic bad feelings in a flaming plastic bag.
I AM JOKING ABOUT THE PLASTIC. I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT PLASTIC.
Remember that time you shotgunned a wine cooler? I didn’t even know such a thing was possible. Hard to believe that was only two years ago, isn’t it? It is. For me. I will try to remember you have no past now.
Well, I should be going. It was truly wonderful seeing the baby from halfway across the room. It’s a memory I will treasure forever. Maybe one day we’ll even laugh about it! No, sorry, you’re right. We absolutely will not.
[More humor: the parent’s real guide to summer “fun”]
Ms. Harrington is a comedy writer and author of Amateur Hour.
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Congratulations on the Birth of Your New Baby! Condolences on the Tragic Loss of Your Sense of Humor! - The New York Times
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